CHAPTER 3 — What Morning Reveals
756 Words
Ember’s POV
I waited until the door closed behind Kieran before forcing myself to climb out of the bed.
My legs wobbled.
My heart thrashed.
My throat was tight with a thousand emotions at once.
I just needed… to get away from that bed.
But when I turned toward it—
I froze.
There, on the sheets—
deep against the pale fabric—
was a dark, unmistakable stain.
Blood.
My blood.
My innocence.
My first time.
Undeniable evidence.
My vision blurred, shame burning hot across my cheeks.
“Goddess…” I whispered, voice breaking, “no…”
I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to breathe.
Magnus didn’t rush to me.
He moved slowly, deliberately, giving me time to absorb, to breathe, to think.
When he reached me, he didn’t look at the bed.
He looked at me.
“Ember,” he said gently.
I shook my head, humiliated. “Magnus… I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean— I didn’t think last night— I shouldn’t have—”
His fingers touched my chin, lifting my face.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, voice deep with certainty. “Nothing.”
“But the sheets—”
He shook his head. “They don’t matter.”
“That’s my—my blood,” I whispered, mortified.
“And?” Magnus murmured, brushing a tear from my cheek. “Do you think that makes you lesser?”
My breath hitched.
“It makes you precious,” he finished softly. “It means you trusted me. That you let me close. That you allowed me into a part of you no one else has ever touched.”
Heat rushed through me—not lust, but something deeper, something terrifying.
He stepped past me and, before I could protest, pulled the sheets off the bed.
“Magnus—Alpha Kings don’t clean sheets—”
“I do,” he corrected calmly. “When they belong to someone who matters.”
The words nearly took my knees out.
He folded the sheets and nodded for me to follow him to a small washing alcove behind the room.
It was quiet, warm, lit by gentle lantern light.
Magnus set the sheets down, rolled up his sleeves, and turned on the water himself.
I stared, speechless.
This man—
this ruthless, towering Alpha King—
was washing the bloodstained sheets with his own hands.
Not a servant.
Not a guard.
Not magic.
Him.
“I can help,” I whispered.
“Then help,” he said simply.
I stepped beside him. Our hands brushed as we worked. My cheeks flamed again, but Magnus only glanced at me with quiet softness.
No judgment.
No disgust.
Only acceptance.
Only warmth.
When we finished, he replaced the bedspread with fresh linens and turned toward me.
“Breakfast,” he said softly. “Come.”
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The Dining Hall
The moment we enter, silence ripples through the room.
Servants pause. Eyes widen. Energy shifts.
And at the far end of the table—
Kieran sits frozen.
His shoulders stiffen. His nostrils flare sharply.
He smells Magnus on me.
On my skin.
My clothes.
My neck.
His grip tightens around his fork until metal bends.
Magnus notices.
He doesn’t care.
He places a steadying hand at the small of my back—warm, firm, unapologetically claiming.
The whispers start immediately.
“She slept in the king’s room—”
“Already? Gods… poor Kieran—”
“So the king took her—”
Magnus hears every word.
But the only thing he focuses on…
Is me.
He pulls out a chair for me—not beside Kieran, but right beside him.
“Sit,” he murmurs.
My heart races. I sit.
He takes the seat next to me, shoulders brushing mine, presence solid and grounding.
“Kieran,” Magnus says calmly, “meet Ember. My guest.”
The word guest is polite.
The tone beneath it is not.
Kieran finally forces out, “Morning.”
But it’s not a greeting.
It’s a warning.
A storm brewing.
Magnus ignores his mood entirely.
Instead, he fills a plate and places it in front of me himself.
“Eat,” he says softly. “You’ll need your strength.”
My cheeks warm.
Kieran’s jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind.
Something deep inside me shifts.
For the first time since being rejected…
Kieran isn’t the one breaking me.
He’s the one breaking.
And this—
this is only the beginning.
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- Writer
